


The Day the Earth Split Open

by wannabeaurora



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabeaurora/pseuds/wannabeaurora
Summary: Because some myths got it wrong.
Relationships: Hades & Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	The Day the Earth Split Open

  
It was dazzling. 

When the ground split with feverish entropy, when the grass splintered from the dirt in lawless clumps, when that new stitch of milk thistle she just planted fragmented into petals and pollen–

It was ethereal. An inky ether, shady with crépuscule and cataclysm. 

And with the wilting narcissus tight between her fingers, she wondered why her feet remained unmoving. Why she didn’t flee from that ruin, leaving a glimmering trail of irises and lilies beneath her toes, with all the zeal of the beloved Goddess of Spring.

Rather, she watched as slivers of terra firma collapsed into the chasm, like the defeated embers of scrolls under firewood. As they tumbled, she felt a specter sweep through her being, bringing with it a dimness she didn’t know she could possess.

The day the earth split open, she shattered. And between the shards, came the most divine darkness that laid dormant underneath her heavenly soul.

When he emerged, she was taken. By the severe lines of his visage, the incandescent fabric of his chlamys, and the way he held her eyes with a devotion that rivaled time, ceaseless and eternal.   
  
His silken hair, his broad shoulders, the flames dancing in his pupils– it’s mere luck that she didn’t grow dizzy from his dark, dark perfection.

“Persephone. My goddess.”

It was sheer, unadulterated beauty. The seething, molten quarry beneath him and his steed was no match for that first time they laid eyes on one another. Her own irises shone with admitted fear. She found no way to reconcile the sacred darkness that began to claw at her limbs, the relief sweeter than the finest ambrosia, the terror more vivid than the errant stroke of Zeus’ thunderbolt. 

And still, it was sanctified and sacrilege all at once. A freeing from the bonds of virtue and purity so forced upon her– by her mother, the nymphs, all of Olympus itself, it seemed– and it was the coming of gloom, as her fingertips turned the most lovely patch of poppies into ash. 

She knew this day would come. She’d seen it in languid daydreams, in visions and fantasy. She heard his voice whisper in her ears like the loveliest cithara, and she felt his touch, searing on the bare skin of her body, as she lay in bed at night. Everything she was, what she was meant to be, relied on this moment in time. It was the ultimate crossing of the threshold. A threshold that plummeted down into angry earth, where the teal sky faded into obsidian, and where the grass turned into mirrored surfaces of murky, sable rivers. 

His eyes held promise. Not a promise to change her, to rid her of the fauna of her soul, but a promise to stand beside her, embrace her, lay his lips on her own with hallowed passion, as she grappled with her lightness in his dark. He held out a hand, and she could swear that the very lines of his palm held more beauty than any of Apollo’s ostentatious, gilded chitons. 

She spared a final look over her pale shoulder, at the boundless meadow behind her, dancing with the delicate flutter of hummingbirds, the effervescent dew of freshly watered apple blossoms, and the innocent smiles of the nymphs as they sprinkled seeds from their woven baskets. 

And she took his hand. 

As they fell, she let herself gaze at the world she would then come to know. Her mother had always described the Underworld as that of murk and mayhem. An endless night riddled with depravity. 

But as her eyes peered over his shoulder, within the cloudy river weaving amongst the lands, the imposing castles and balustrades, and the wisps of silvery soot floating in the atmosphere like snuffed-out fireflies, she saw light. The Styx and the Lethe refracted off one another like moonless stained glass, pulling up shadows of the boat traversing their waters. And the exterior of the castles were set ablaze in indulgence, ruby and gold embellishment running up the stoned walls. 

“Oh,” she managed to breathe out, and leaned back into his chest. 

They landed smoothly on the castle courtyard, and she winced from the overwhelming wave of heat as directed by the large plumes of flame in each torchlight. 

“What are your thoughts, my love?” he murmured in her ear, before dismounting and helping her down. 

“I am surprised. It is not what I anticipated.” 

He held out an arm, and she took it cautiously, her senses still overstimulated by the new setting. “May I offer a tour?”

“I suppose.”

As they climbed up the thick, obsidian staircase to the castle, she felt fear and anticipation form a vicious compound in her chest. With the best attempts to keep her chin up, in her peripherals, she noticed his gaze smoldered the surface of her cheek, her neck, her arms. A shiver swept up her spine.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, his inky hair framing his beguiling features and falling into his eyes. 

“You are the whisperer in my dreams. The wraith in my visions.” 

“Tell me my name, my goddess.” 

She paused, the intangibilities of his voice, his ghost, his touch in her mind becoming corporeal, as they stood on the lustrous palace opening. The elusive murmurs and the unfeeling presence of him that she had experienced for all her years played in her mind like Sappho’s balladry. They all strung together like twisted strings of fate, golden and celestial. 

“Aidoneus,” she whispered, the word forming on her tongue with the sweetness of wine and nectar. It felt like prayer, like birdsong, as it tumbled from her pink lips. 

He turned to her and held her face in his hands, staring intently into her gold irises. “Tell me the one that makes you tremble with want in your sheets. The one that coils into your heart like a serpent, of which holds your very soul captive.”

“Hades.”

“That’s right.”

And with that, his lips fell onto hers. She faltered, unnerved by the foreign sensation of another’s mouth on hers. With a graceless stumble, she felt herself sway backwards. It was quickly remedied by his strong arms wrapping around her waist, as he kept her steady on the stone. After a few disorienting beats, her lips moved of their own accord and swept across his mouth with fervor, each daydream and dream rendered insignificant by this divine moment in time. The jagged ravine in the earth was pathetic in comparison to that second, where two souls laced together, body and mind succumbing to eternity. She’s shocked when an unfamiliar noise slips from her lips– a moan, with lilt and desperation. 

And when he took her bottom lip between her teeth, she felt her body come alive, pleasure and pain erupting in a synergy that arose a need within her that only he could sate. What was this sensation? She became needy and pliant under his firm grip, helpless to the rapture that he gifted her. His fingers crept under her peplos and stroked her breasts, and a wave of warm sensations crawled up her body like a wildfire. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced– exaltation, bliss, leaving her with an ache between her thighs and a winding of her muscles. 

“Ah. She’s arrived.”

She flew away from him at the sound of the sultry voice. In front of the massive doorway stood a lean woman, dark and alluring with beauty. As she approached them, serpents sensually wound around her abdomen, their tongues flicking the exposed skin under her… quite revealing gown. 

Persephone found herself dumbfounded, her gaze traveling up the enchantress’ pearlescent body. The serpents wove through her hair and lifted the strands like floating feathers, and a smooth laugh left the woman’s mouth at her staring. 

“Scandalized, my dear?” Her hips swayed as she approached the two, and she spared Hades a cursory look that she could not decipher. 

“Hecate, enough,” Hades said sternly, and rested his hand on the small of her spine. 

“Oh, hush.” Hecate circled her, her eyes somehow more scrutinizing than the scarlet ones deep in the serpents’ skulls. “She’s positively exquisite. It’s lovely to meet the new Queen.”

“Queen?” she asked softly, confusion muddled with the disorient still swirling in her mind.

Hecate’s dark gaze spun on Hades. “You did not inform her?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I was a bit busy.” 

“Fates,” Hecate muttered. “This is not how it should have happened.” 

She began to blink in horror. “Am I to be a queen? Here? In this place?” 

Hecate and Hades shared another daring, cautious glance, before he offered an arm. “Let me escort you, my love–”

But Persephone recoiled, the overwhelm saturating her senses until her mind felt woolly. “But, my mother, she said the Underworld–” _Is binding_. Suddenly, the black opal obelisks looked less wondrous and more imposing. The sweet darkness she craved a few minutes ago was then oppressive, smothering the lifelong remembrances of blossoming begonias and touch-me-nots, cool air and lolling wheat fields into ash and ember, deceit and decay. Would she see her mother again? The nymphs? Artemis and Pallas? 

Panic and resentment seethed on her skin, and the swell she usually felt in her fingertips when she bloomed daisies seeped down into her chest; a wave of sulfur tinged the air, and her nerve endings burned with vigor. Below her, clusters of nightshade started to ravel around her ankles and spill down the castle steps, sprigs and poisonous leaves haphazardly littering the stone. 

“Oh, my,” Hecate said slowly. “That is quite unwell.” 

Hades’ eyes lit up, much to her dismay. “Remarkable.”

 _Remarkable_? “I– How dare–” 

“You were right, Hecate,” Hades said, a willowy smirk wide on his face. “The Fates declared it. My Queen.” He moved to pull Persephone into an embrace, but she ripped herself away, her eyes blazing. 

“I am not your anything!” she said indignantly. “Take me back, this instant.”

Hades’ knuckles stroked her cheek. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my love.” 

“I need to see my mother. Take me back. Now,” she insisted, the flames growing brighter as his smile grew. 

“My Queen–”

“Quiet! I am no queen!” 

He moved towards her, but Hecate stepped forward. “Perhaps, I can assist the Q– Persephone?” 

Persephone turned her wrathful gaze on the woman, considering. This may be the only way she can learn how to find her way back to her mother _._ “Fine, then.”

One of Hecate’s serpents slid out towards her, nearly affectionately. “Come with me then,” she said. Hecate took her hand, and she didn’t spare Hades a backwards glance as they sauntered away. 

She only grew more frustrated as they traversed the magma-tinted walls and the gilded balusters. “Can you please inform me on how to return to the Upperworld?” 

“Ah,” Hecate drew out and stopped in front of an ivory fountain, a molten, swirling lavender spilling over the floating slabs of rock. 

Persephone blinked. “Is that–”

“Liquid amethyst. Hades’ preferred choice of gemstone,” she mused. “As for your way home, I wish I was the bearer of more favorable news. You are both Goddess and Queen of the Underworld.”

She felt her chest cave in, her peripherals pulsing as the amethyst piled over itself. “My mother–”

“Yes, well, your mother smothered you for a reason. Have you ever wondered precisely why you were never meant to roam further than your own lands? Why your only companions were to be the nymphs of your mother’s approval?”

“As the Goddess of Spring, I’m to remain chaste and maidenly, and–”

“A virgin? Yes.”

Her cheeks burned. But Hecate pressed forward. “Do you know what your name means?”

“Yes. Maiden.”

“You’re referring to ‘Kore,’ I presume. ‘Persephone’ takes on a different meaning.”  
  
She simply stared at the woman. Hecate smiled slyly. “The Bringer of Death, my dear. That’s your namesake.”

Persephone froze. Bringer of Death? “No. I– my namesake is virtuousness, and chastity, and the emergence of life, and living things, and–” 

“You are both.”

“I am no su–”

“Haven’t you felt the wickedness, Persephone? That hidden sliver of your soul you so repress? Your obsession with death that nearly matches your infatuation with life?” 

She thought back to when she was a mere babe, hardly the height of the dandelion field. And she remembered how she would huddle among the weeds, raising her hand up and down, forcing the grass to wilt, and then regrow. Over, and over. An endless cycle of rebirth, the constant oscillation between breath and demise. Another memory came before her as she stared at the rolling fountain, one where her adolescent self perched on a willow branch and directed the occasional rivulet of ants away from the hill and towards the waiting caterpillar. She would watch the ants disappear under the larger creature, unblinking, and wonder why the life of one is taken to sustain that of another. 

And in her adult years, of course, she laid on her side and stared at the violets on her vanity table, watching the purple drain from the flowers and crumple to ash within the soil. A tormented fertilizer. Another organic circle that only she had created.

Still, she hid all of these activities from her mother and the nymphs, deciding that it’s simply an innocent fixation, an ache that needed to be quickly tended to.

Hecate raised a knowing eyebrow. “I see that I have inspired some thought.” 

“I haven’t a clue what you’re speaking of.”

“Of course. Follow me.”

They navigated deeper into the seemingly unending castle interior, and passed door after door, leaving Persephone to wonder what could possibly be behind each. 

“Here we are.” After a flick of a hand, the looming door in front of Hecate slammed open. 

As soon as the room came to view, a hand flew up to Persephone’s chest. “My gods.”

In the center of the room stood the largest lyre she’d ever seen, cast in gold and quartz, the strings quivering slightly under the silvery hue. They moved of their own accord, as if invisible fingers were taken to each cord to create the gentlest melody. Apollo would weep at the sight of it. 

As she gazed upon it, it seemed otherworldly, holy, even– something to be seen in Olympus, a temple. Least of all, the Underworld. 

“That is the standard reaction, yes.” Hecate was entirely unmoved as she approached the massive instrument. “Come. See these strings here?”

Persephone studied them intently, and watched in fascination as they were pulled and plucked by an unknown force. “What are they?”

“Fate seams. The telling of each soul, its path, its destiny.” 

As hard as she tried, her scrutiny was completely ineffective. “I do not follow.” 

Hecate sighed, and gingerly ran her fingers over one string. “See how they are colored?” 

Her eyes trailed the length of the lyre, and she saw the standard thick string, color of silver and gold. “Yes. They are the same.”

“Look closer.”

After she inched forward, she noticed the smallest deformity in the unvaried pattern– what seemed to be a single string, but was actually a twine of two; the colors were different, the gold a bit brighter, the silver a bit duller. “And that?”

“That is yours.” 

Her heart leapt out of the bounds of her chest. “And the other…?”

“Yes. Your King. Hades.”

She stumbled backwards and collapsed against the wall, the hand on her chest being the only thing that kept her intact. “Impossible. It can’t be.”

“It is, my dear.” Hecate laid an elegant hand on her shoulder. “The Fates declared it. It was, simply, meant to be.” 

“I-I cannot remain here. There is no sunlight, no plants, no harvest–”

“This is untrue. I would advise you to speak with him. It is his place to tell you, and I’m sure he’s eager to. He’s been waiting for you for many millennia.”

She gasped, growing dizzy and unsure. “Millennia?” 

Hecate smiled warmly, and the serpents coiled in lovely ringlets around strands of her hair. “The very reason he is alive, is to be with you.”

“I…” She was at a loss for words. “Regardless, I must go.”

Hecate inspected her for a bloated moment, before she sighed. She snapped, and a large red orb appeared in her palm.

“What is that?” 

Hecate turned it over in her hand. “It is the fruit of the Underworld. A pomegranate.”

She blinked. “And?”

Hecate opened Persephone’s fist and laid the fruit in it. “You are not bound to the Underworld, not yet.”

She frowned. “But my mother said–”

“Yes, well, we have learned that your mother is about as useful as Zeus without his lightning bolt.”

Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. 

Hecate snapped again, and the pomegranate split in her hands. She stared at the glistening ruby seeds littered in its core. “You will be bound to the Underworld if you consume these. As of now, you are not.” 

“Truly?”

“Yes.” Hecate sighed. “Do me a favor, and do not tell Hades about this. I simply desire the King’s, and your, happiness. I believe that you will find it together.”

Persephone was silent.

“Just go speak with him. And make up your own mind.”

“How am I to–”

She heard a snap of fingers, and suddenly, she stood on the floor of a sprawling bedroom. He faced out the window, a chalice in his hand. She twitched and shifted uncomfortably, unable to remove her eyes from the muscles sweeping down his back. 

He chuckled. “I’m assuming you’ve been properly made aware of our circumstances.”

She inched closer. “Millennia?” she whispered. 

The muscles tensed, and he set the chalice down, crimson liquid trickling from the rim. “I have waited very long for you.”

Despite her aggravation and worry, her heart still ached for the man, the man who kept her company many lonely nights and days, in dreams and visions. “Why did you not come before?”

He turned around, and she was surprised to see guilt written on his beautiful features. “I had to wait. Make sure you knew of me, and what was to come.”

She noticed that they’d begin to drift closer together, between them a magnetism that even gravity itself could not obey. “How… why did you have to take me?”

He sighed, and finally reached her, looking at her so tenderly that it brought a faint pink to her cheeks. “Your mother…” 

She gasped. “My mother… knew?”

He nodded, anger then descending in his eyes. “All the gods and goddesses are aware of the Fate seams.”

“I was not aware!” 

“I’m so sorry, my love.” His hand rested on her cheek. “She could not bear to lose you. She… is not fond of your father. My brother.”

She blinked. “Zeus?”

“Indeed. She was furious when he had left her for Hera. She swore that he would never see you, or her, for eternity. But you were to be in Olympus, all this time.”

“No,” she whispered. “My mother said that my spring only came to our realm. Our lands.” 

“Persephone,” he said sadly. “She has made you naive. Your spring is everywhere–”

She stepped back with a glare. “I am not naive! And the Underworld–”

“Did you not see what you had born on the stairs? Life, Persephone. You are spring. It goes wherever you do. It’s why your seam is so much lighter than other gods and goddesses.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I do not understand.”

“Zeus may live without his lightning bolt. Artemis without her bow. But you, my love.” He took her hands in his own. “You are life. Its bringer, its taker.” 

“No,” she whispered. It felt as though her world had been forced out of the clear frame she had once known. “I cannot take it! I…” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “The taking of a life is no evil–”

“Of course it is!” she cried. “Death is my foe! A tainting of the life I deliver!”

Hades stared deeply into her eyes, as if he was collecting her soul through her irises. “No, it is not. It is the natural progression of being. You are life, and rebirth.”

“You trap souls here for eternity!” she snapped, unwilling to accept this fate. “There is no such rebirth!” 

He offered a hand. “Let me show you. Then you shall decide for yourself.” She gazed warily at his palm. “Please, my goddess.”

She took his hand, for the second time that day. 

When she opened her eyes, they were in the center of a verdant meadow. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the patches of unfamiliar flowers. She touched the silver petals and gasped at the feel of them. 

“Chromas,” Hades said. 

“Flowers born of… metal?” she asked in disbelief. 

“Indeed.” He smiled and continued to escort her through the meadow. She didn’t miss the prismatic feel of the idyllic lands; it took on the form of Upperworld grass, but everything was a bit more prismatic and diaphanous. Dare she say, heavenly. Perhaps celestial. 

“Gods,” she breathed. “And we are still in the realm of the Underworld?”

“Yes. Come.” They followed a pebbled path through a wood until they came in sight of… a village? 

She watched in awe at the bustling settlement. The windows were warm and open, full of dining tables and good cheer. Carts of fluffy breads and dewy fruits lined the homespun cabins and storefronts. Children weaved in between the bustle, dodging legs and hooves, at the receiving end of angry scoldings from the shopkeepers. Damp tunics hung from clotheslines, and a couple embraced in front of the massive fountain in its center, amethyst eagerly flowing from its spout. 

“What…?” 

Hades grinned at the sight of a child scaling up a fence post to avoid the woman following him with a wooden broom. “This is Elysium.”

“It’s absolutely lovely,” she marveled. Her fickle heart ached wistfully as she gazed at a mother cuddling her swathed baby to her chest. Hades followed her vision and took her hand. 

“Would you like that?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing her knuckles. 

She swallowed. “There is so much life. So many beautiful things.”

“Yes.”

“But, those spirits, stuck in the rivers, and in the caves, and the–”

“Murderers. Thiefs. Villains.”

“My gods.” She shook her head. “This was nothing like mother said.”

“She has been stifling you, my love. You were a prisoner.” Hades put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “You are free here. A queen.” He looked at her with so much love and devotion, that she felt as though she might wilt into the milkweeds. “My soulmate. My forever. My destiny.”

He captured her lips once again. And for the first time in her life, she felt as though she was truly alive. “I would restructure the heavens, defy the stars, rearrange the earth for you.” He laid a kiss on her shoulder. “Anything and everything for my wife.”

Despite the fact that she felt the instinctual need to lean into his hold, she still wavered. “I… marriage?”

He turned her around with concern in his eyes. “You do not want to be my wife?”

“We met hardly a few hours ago.”

He laughed. “You have known me for your entire time on this earth, my love.” 

“I did not know you were real! I thought… I thought…” 

“You knew. In your heart and soul and mind, you knew. The Fates ensured it, despite your mother’s ineffections.” Her eyes flickered down, as she was unable to deny his statement. She looked back at the village, its inhabitants, a fondness and intimacy there that she did not know. He took her face in his hands. “You are equal parts of my soul and my heart. My reason for being. Please,” he pleaded with her. “Tell me you understand.”

“I do.”

The smile that spread on his face was breathtaking. “You do? So, you’ll stay?”

She hesitated, and his face fell. “What of my mother? And the nymphs, and my home?”

“This is your home,” he said adamantly. 

“I haven’t even been here for a full rotation of the sun! Why would I possibly want to stay?” Despondency crossed his face, and she immediately felt a wave of pain and guilt run over her. “I apologize,” she said and dared to stroke his cheek. “I am just… overwhelmed.”

He sighed. “Yes. I understand. It must be quite disorienting.”

She happened to look over her shoulder, and a gasp tumbled from her lips. “Incredible,” she breathed.

He turned around and gazed at the setting sun with her. “Ah, yes. The sunrise and sunset are especially exquisite in Elysium.” 

Her feet moved of their own accord as she traversed through the forest and towards the shell-pink and lavender twilight. Nearly in a trance, she finally reached the edge of the wood and emerged into a lovely thicket, many-hued flowerbeds of marigold and tulips thick and luscious on the grass. She gazed at the harlequin heavens. She’s the Goddess of Spring, of all things alive and beautiful, and she had found the most beauty in a single moment, in the Underworld. 

A chin rested on her shoulder. “And yet, it pales in comparison to you.”

Ares and Dionysus never made her feel such adoration. Despite their lengthy propositions, the elaborate gifts, the sweet poetry– every second with Hades was a blessing in itself. How can you fall so deeply in love so quickly? So deeply, unreservedly, profoundly in love?

Her heart detonated in shards of affection, yearning, and acceptance. So she spun around and took his face in her hands, and impatiently pressed her lips against his. He inhaled sharply, but after not even a moment’s hesitation, he was embracing her back with full fervor. Their lips tangled and snarled and entwined, and she felt herself being slowly lowered to the ground. The honeyed smells of jasmine and pine fell around her in a hazy cloud. The hard feel of his body on top of her bare skin was a cold contrast to the soft, dewy petals under her shoulders and spine. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered as his mouth ran down her throat. “My love, my heart, my goddess,” he laid a kiss down her chest between each endearment. When his mouth fell upon her breasts, she cried out and fisted the grass beneath her. “Absolutely divine,” he murmured while drawing the cloth of the peplos off her body. His tongue drew languid flowers down her ribcage and to the rise of her hips. He looked up at her. “May I worship you, my Queen?”

Her chest hurt from how hard she breathed, and despite the freshness of the atmosphere, air still felt foreign. The swell of her breasts caved in and away with each stuttered inhale as she nodded frantically. “Yes.”

And his tongue was on her, and everything was bliss. Him, his tongue, his love. When his fingers slowly pressed inside of her, she whimpered and arched off the ground. “Tell me how to make you feel good,” he said, his mouth laying all of his affections on her. 

“More,” she managed to croak out. 

“Anything for you,” he murmured. His tongue and fingers moved faster, and she nearly lost herself at the self-indulgence and sinfulness of it all, at his eagerness and fervor. 

A peculiar feeling began to arise in her. It was hedonistic, warm and rapturous. Her senses began to fail her, and her whimpers descended into sobs. The pleasure became addictive, and she instinctively dug her hands into his hair and yanked him further into her. The vibrations of his growl echoed into her being, and a tide began in her core and swept up her body. Her eyes widened. “Yes–” Her whimper was cut off with a scream. Above them, the petals of the cherry blossom tree began to rain down in wispy rose; the flowers around them swelled and billowed to full-bloom, and the vines wrapped around the tree trunks curled in joy. 

He looked up with an awed smile. “You are stunning.” 

Her panting ceased after a mortifying few moments. “I– that–” 

He cut off her mumbling with a soft kiss. “Do you not believe that we are it for one another? Fates be damned. Do you not feel this?” He ran a hand over her ribcage, and a shudder passed through her body.

“I feel it,” she whispered. 

He stroked her cheek. “As do I.” He moved to rise. “Come. Let us return home.”

She grasped his wrist while staring at his pelvis. “I want all of you.”

Concern lined his brow. “But your virt–”

“I am fairly positive what you just did was not virtuous in the slightest.”

He smirked. “You are correct.” He held her palm to his heart. “Are you sure, my love?” 

She nodded. “Take me.” 

His face immediately darkened in lust. All of her mother’s warnings and scoldings and lectures about maidenhood and chastity were instantly forgotten as she stared at the face of the man above her; there was no arrogance, as seen in Hermes, no greed, as seen in Dionysus. Just pure, utter worship and awe. 

He kissed her cheek before removing his chlamys. Admittedly, a bit of fear ran through her as she gazed at his exposed skin. He raised her chin with his hand. “We do not have to.”

“I would like to.”

He nodded and began pressing kisses against her neck, running his tongue over her collarbone. For a moment, she was distracted, but a halted gasp spilled from her lips when a splitting pain erupted in her lower body. He pushed into her, but immediately stopped when seeing the agonized look on her face.

“Persephone? Am I hurting you?” His face crumpled and he moved to pull out, but she put insistent hands on his shoulders. 

“Just wait.” She took a few deep breaths, and the pain faded into a dull burn. Her eyes opened. “Slowly.”

He slid the rest of the way in, and she cringed and squirmed, but soon relaxed as he began to touch her where their bodies met. A soft moan left her lips. “Oh…”

Once again, he withdrew and pushed in slowly, and she trembled at the tortured sound he made, his face buried in her neck. “You are of my everlasting fantasies, my most cherished gift,” he murmured.

His evocations brought bliss to her entire being, and the pain spiraled into an unparalleled desire, a fierce need. Growing increasingly frustrated at his leisurely pace, she gripped his shoulders and ran her nails down his back. He groaned loudly and thrust into her deeply. “More,” she gasped. 

His pace grew relentless, and soon, as their hips flew together over and over, the sweet, sublime mix of aching and rapture plummeted into a euphoria that she could hardly tolerate. She cried out in vicious sets of screams and whimpers, and with his moans, created a lovely symphony of their togetherness. A twining of souls and hearts more than two bodies, fate and destiny too pathetic of words to describe this feeling. 

“My Queen,” he fought for breath, and a string of ineloquent words tumbled from his mouth. “I love you.” 

“And I, you.” 

And together, they came, harder and faster than language could adequately describe, testing the seemingly undying limits of their celestial bodies. The wood of the cherry blossom branches splintered and lengthened, casting a shade above and shrouding them in moonlight as the remnants of the setting sun came to dust. A swell of honeysuckle and freesia filled the air as they moaned together a final time. 

He held her close as her lingering pulses still gripped him tightly. Still on a kind of high, her daring side flipped them over and pushed him down as she rained kisses on his face, his neck, his sternum. His fingers dug delicious bruises into her hips as he sighed and growled beneath her. 

For the rest of the night, they came together for hours to come, sharing kisses and sweet words, and indulging in the luck they both found, to have the Fates bless them with their other half. And when they left in the morning, the forest had enough fauna and flora to last a few millennia. 

Hecate stood on the palace steps with a sly grin when they finally returned to the castle. She raised a dark eyebrow. “I assume that things went well?” 

Her body flushed a pretty, pale pink, and Hades pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Yes. Quite well.” 

A large mass of fur and snapping teeth sounded from behind Hecate. Both her and Hades tensed, as if to stop whatever was to come. 

“Behind me, my love.” Hades moved to push her backwards, but the mass leapt over Hecate’s head and landed in front of her with a ruthless growl. The three-headed wolf was all onyx and bone, and his teeth were ivory as pearl under the shadows of the Underworld.

“Cerberus! Enou–” 

But she crouched down and reached out a hand. “Hello, there.” 

Hecate and Hades gaped as Cerberus’ snout nosed the lines of her palm. A deep, maroon tongue lashed out and eagerly swept up her skin. She scratched each head, and the creature bayed affectionately, sinking down and laying his head in her lap.

“What in the name of Gaia?” Hecate blinked fast. 

Hades laughed incredulously. “He’s as bewitched as I am.”

“Soon, Thanatos will be escorting her across the heavens.”

Hades scowled. “Over Zeus’ withered, decayed body.”

Hecate smirked and conjured up a violet swirl of crackling magic. “That can be arranged, my king.”

He sighed wistfully. “Ah, if only.”

She continued to pet a trilling Cerberus. “What is to be done now?”

“Your coronation, of course,” Hades said. 

“Queen,” she said quietly. “Queen of the Underworld.” Cerberus yipped. Her mind still refocused on a single thing. “And what of my mother?”

Hecate and Hades exchanged a pointed look. She grew worrisome. “What is it?”

“Your mother, she,” Hecate paused. “She is unhappy.”

“I would presume.”

“She forbade the harvest.”

Her heart palpitates. “What do you mean, forbade?”

“She is refusing to tend to the earth until you are found,” Hecate said. 

A hand flew to her mouth, and her chest ached at the images of a parched badland, brittle wheat fields, and wilted wildflowers. “My gods,” she whispered. “What shall we do?”

“An influx of souls have been brought down.” Hades rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I must tend to those, my love.” 

She looked up at him in panic. “But, I must return! Spring will never come! Humans will perish! And–”

“You cannot.”

She stood up indignantly. “I must!” 

Hades’ visage remained unmoving. “No. You mustn't and you will not.”

“Queen Persephone, perhaps I can–”

“No!” she cried. “I am returning! People will perish!”

“You are staying in the Underworld, now and forever,” he snapped. “It is the final word of the King.”

Pain and resentment wracked her being as she stared into the unfamiliar, cold eyes. “I beg your–”

“Hecate, take her to her chambers. I will return soon.” 

And with that, he vanished into a haze of smoke and darkness. She growled– not quite befitting of the Goddess of Spring– but she did, anyways. Cerberus echoed her, in some sort of twisted solidarity. He nudged her arm with his nose, and looked up at her with worried eyes. 

She sighed. “Your master is absolutely infuriating.” 

He whined. Hecate barked a laugh. “Let me show you to your room.” 

“How do I return, Hecate?”

Hecate gazed at her with a mixture of wariness and pity. “I am sorry, Persephone.” 

“If you were truly sorry, you would assist me.” 

“It would be against the King’s orders.”

“I am the Queen! And I am ordering you to let me up!” 

Hecate smiled apologetically. “I wish I could.” And with a flourish of her hand, they were in the middle of a lavish bedroom, adorned with a confusing combination of gold and grass, wood and ruby, flower and amethyst. The organic and inorganic, light and dark.

“Try to rest, Persephone,” Hecate said. 

And she was gone.

She collapsed on the magnificent duvet, and started to pound on the feathered pillows. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. People are dying in the Upperworld! And here she lies, the goddess of life and living things, doing not a thing. 

No. She will not sit idly by.

She shot up and made her way to the door. She crept through the castle hallways and tried to remember the way back to the entrance. After successfully finding it, she took a deep breath and leaped down the stairs. She stared out into the unknown abyss, which looked much more frightening when she was not cradled against Hades’ chest.

The pattering of footsteps sounded behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Cerberus approaching her cautiously. 

“Hello, my sweet.” She smiled gently and brushed the creature’s ears. He arched into her fingers, and she sighed. “Oh, how I will miss you.” He whined. “I know. But I must. Will you show me how to find my way?” He huffed and shook his heads. “Please?” After a few silent beats, Cerberus nudged her thigh and began to stride away.

She followed him up jagged stone pathways and to a crumbling tower, past an obsidian bridge and toward an andesite cordillera. At the top of the cliff edge was a set of gates that never ended, just extended into the endless night of the Underworld. Rather than metal, it was composed of smoke and flame, flickering in and out of sight the longer she stared at it. 

She turned to Cerberus with a sad smile. “I will see you soon.” He huffed, but licked her palm. When she approached the gate, she intended to stroll straight through the haze, but to her surprise, it knocked into her body as she attempted to. “What?” she murmured. She glanced over her shoulder at Cerberus, but he had left. She looked around, searching for a key, or something to use to force it open, anything, really. She reached a shaky palm out, and pushed. 

It creaked open. Dazed, she stepped through and into the darkness. 

When she emerged, she was in the very same spot in which the earth split open. She stepped through the archway of their courtyard, and she was met with frantic shrieks and cries. 

“My Kore! My child!” She stumbled backwards as two arms were flung around her shoulders. 

“Hello, mother.”

Still gripping her upper arms, Demeter pulled back, fury written on her flawless features. “He took you, didn’t he? That demon!”

“Is it true, mother?”

Demeter was silent. “What ever do you mean, my Kore?”

“Persephone, mother. It’s Persephone. Zeus ordained it.”

Demeter sniffed.

“The Fate seams. Is it true?” Persephone asked.

Darkness descended in her usually bright eyes, and the fury intensified with each and every blink. “He lied! It’s all a lie!” The weeds in the courtyard wilted and flattened. But her eyes betrayed her words.

Persephone staggered back. “It is true. You knew. All of Olympus knew.” 

“No god or goddess could ever force me to wed you to that heathen,” she spat. “He is our foe. The stifling of our bringing of life!” 

“That’s not true! He showed me Elysium.”

“Elysium is nothing compared to our realm!”

“Mother, he…” Her voice faltered as she soon realized that she already missed the man. “He loves me. He showed me everything. He gave me everything.”

“Gave you…” Realization dawns on her, and Persephone had never been more frightened than that moment. “He what?” she boomed, her goddess form revealing itself as gold shone from her irises. She lifted from the ground, and her arms flew out. Darkness shrouded them as the sun and clouds disappeared from the sky. 

“Mother, what are you doing? Stop!”

“There will be no sun, not until he pays for what he has done!” 

The nymphs emerged from the temple and quickly embraced Persephone, flitting over her hair, her gown. A slow rumble sounded behind them, and they all turned to see the field and meadow uproot and shatter, sending clumps of wheat and flowers flying into the air. Her mother flew higher in the air, thrusting her arms in accordance with the destruction.

“Mother!” Persephone cried. “Stop! Stop!” 

The nymphs erupted in panic and cowered from the goddess, and for too long, her world was darkness and despair, despondent cries and mourning for the starvation to come, her mother’s piercing, golden eyes, and fear. So much fear.

It all finally stopped when a vicious electric current slammed down in front of her mother, shaking the ground of the courtyard. Persephone and the nymphs all tumbled to the ground as the earth turned on its head. As she laid on the ground and stared up at the gloomy sky, she realized that she felt no life here, at all. 

Only when she managed to arise on her hands did she see the cluster of familiar faces, imposing and glorious in the center of the courtyard. The errant sparks of the lightning bolt buried in the ground burned the skin on her face.

“Demeter!” Zeus boomed. His deep tenor reverberated the earth and sky, resonating and rumbling every being. She cowered and wished for Hades, desperately. “Enough of this!” Zeus slammed the bolt into the stone once again, and Demeter crumpled to the ground.

“Mother!” she gasped and ran to the fallen woman. She collapsed to her knees, but her mother was awake and well. Demeter flew to her feet and faced Zeus, eyes dazzling with rage. 

“How kind of all of you to come! Outside of a council meeting, no less,” Demeter crooned sarcastically. Persephone followed her eyes, and saw the entirety of the pantheon at Zeus’ back. Artemis broke from the line of gods and goddesses and helped Persephone up.

“Are you alright?” Artemis asked, concern deep in her eyes. 

“I am fine,” Persephone said stiffly. “What is happening?”

“Your mother has butchered the harvest while you were gone,” Artemis said quietly, as Zeus and her mother continued to scream at one another. “All forms of life have perished.”

“No,” she whispered. “How could she do this?”

“Well, it has much to do with him.” Artemis looked pointedly at Zeus.

“Stop this, Demeter,” Hera snapped. “Your jealousy and scheming has gone too far. You are acting like a petulant child.”

“You dare?” Demeter shrieked, about to rise once again, but swirls of water laced her wrists together at her spine.

“My apologies, sister,” Poseidon said, water flowing from his fingertips. 

“Please, Demeter.” Athena stepped forward. “This is a cruel use of your godhood. The humans–”

“Humans? Since when do any of you care about _mortals_?” Demeter asked. 

Apollo and Ares joined Artemis at her side. “Are you well, goddess?” Ares asked with an unnerving amount of fake sympathy; Apollo took advantage of the moment and decided to ‘evaluate’ her body for bruising, to which Artemis slapped his hand away. 

“Demeter,” Aphrodite purred. She touched her cheek. “You can do much better than him, darling.” She spared an unimpressed glance at Zeus. “And he’s not very well-endowed, anyway,” she murmured with a wink.

“Aphrodite!” Zeus roared, and a buzz of electricity snapped at her long, dark hair. “Quiet!”

Aphrodite huffed. “No need to be so impetuous, lover.”

“Persephone is of age, Demeter,” Dionysus said. “You cannot imprison her forever.”

Demeter lashed at her binds, but Poseidon’s water kept her unmoving. “You are interfering with the rest of the pantheon,” Hephaestus added. “Our vineyards have withered, our flora deceased. You are bringing ruin to Olympus.”

“Good!” Her mother snarled. “Olympus brought _my_ ruin!”

“Silence!” A clap of thunder rolled through the heavens. Zeus’ eyes flickered to Persephone, and an odd smile crossed his expression. “Daughter.”

“She is no daughter of yours!” Demeter screamed. 

“Oh, get over it.” Hera rolled her eyes. “He left you for me a long time ago, whelp. How long can this petty grudge sustain itself?” 

“You will restore the harvest. And Persephone will return to the Underworld, as the Fates have declared,” Zeus announced.

“Never!” Demeter screamed. 

“You shall, or you will be sent to Tartarus.” 

The rest of Olympus gasped at Zeus’ sentencing, and a choked sob fell from Persephone’s throat. “No!” 

“Quiet, daughter,” Zeus snapped.

His disregard for her was more painful than a lash on her cheek. Artemis held her to her shoulder as she silently wept.

“You cannot do this,” Demeter seethed.

“Yes, I can.”

The familiar voice sent shivers down her spine. In a cloud of black smoke, next to Zeus, appeared Hades. Her breath caught and her legs crossed, and she heard Artemis snicker at her reaction by her side. 

“As the King of the Underworld, I reign over the violations of the Fate seams. A deliberate and quarrelsome denial of their givings is willful ground for Tartarus,” Hades said loudly. 

Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “Such dramatics. Men.” 

“This is insurrection! I am the Goddess of the Harvest! I control life!”

“And I, death,” Hades said darkly. “I shall carry out my brother’s sentencing.” His eyes flickered from her mother, and landed on Persephone. A look of betrayal flashed on his face. “My love,” he whispered, and her heart ached at the despondency in his tenor.

“Your _love?"_ Demeter roared. 

“It is final, then.” Zeus struck the ground with his bolt. “The harvest is to be restored.”

Hera stepped up next to him. “And I approve the union of Persephone, Goddess of Spring, and Hades, King of the Underworld.”

“No!” Her mother cried out in agony.

Her chest pulled in two directions. It pained her to see her mother in such pain, but her heart ached to be in Hades’ arms once again. 

“If the harvest is not restored by nightfall, the gates of Tartarus shall be reopened,” Zeus declared. And with that, each god and goddess disappeared, one by one. She did not miss Hades’ glare at Apollo and Ares as they both pressed a kiss to her cheek before sweeping away. 

Artemis squeezed her hand. “Keep in touch, my dear. I wish you a happy and blessed union.” 

“Thank you, Artemis. I shall keep Hermes under my thumb.”

“I do not think that will be a problem.” Artemis winked, and away she went. 

She ran to her mother once again, who was still crumpled on the ground. “Mother, I am so sorry,” she said. “I wish it did not happen this way.”

Demeter did not respond. She wept, and wept. “Mother, I beg you,” Persephone pleaded. “I will never survive if you were to be in Tartarus. Please, let me be with my love.” 

Demeter looked up, her usually immaculate face wracked with wet. “How can you love such a man?”

She glanced at Hades, who lingered silently in the corner of the courtyard. “I cannot explain it. Our love… it, simply, is. I will return frequently. The Gates obeyed my departure. I’ve not yet consumed the pomegranate seeds.” 

Demeter raised a hand to her cheek. “I do not wish to lose you, my child.”

She placed a hand over her mother’s. “You shall never lose me. Everything I am, you have made me. But I must obey the Fates. It is my calling.”

“To rule the dead? To be married to evil?”

“He is not evil, mother,” she said softly. “He is my soulmate. I cannot live a life in which we are not together. He is my whole heart, the very air I breathe. He has been with me for as long as I can remember. In my dreams, my visions, my fantasies.” 

Demeter looked as though Persephone had driven a dagger through her throat. “I love you, mother. So very much. But, I must go.” She embraced Demeter tightly. 

“I love you, my child,” Demeter said stiffly. “But if you leave, you are no daughter of mine.” 

She did not breathe. “W-what?”

“I will care for you no longer.”

“Mother… you can’t truly mean that!"

“I do.” When Demeter raised her head, her eyes were serious and steely. “It is your choice. Bring life to our world, or be damned to death for the rest of eternity.”

They held each other’s gaze for too long. Persephone ripped her eyes away. “I am sorry it had to end this way, mother.”

When she stood, Demeter’s eyes widened. “Kore… Persephone!” 

But she continued to walk towards Hades and his extended hand, step by step. 

“Stop! Enough!” Demeter shouted, but it was too late.

Hades took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Are you ready to go home, my love?” 

“I am.”

And the earth split open, once again. And they fell. 

\--

“Persie!”

She turns around to see the tiny seven-year-old scampering towards her, dodging around the legs of the villagepeoples. She anxiously watches the child duck under a water pole. Finally, she reaches Persephone with eager eyes. 

“Marina!” She crouches down and embraces the child. “You must be more careful!” she scolds. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, while drawing a toe in the grass. 

“Oh, that’s alright. Why aren’t you reading those books I brought you?” 

“I finished them!” Marina says proudly. 

Persephone raises her eyebrows. “I came to Elysium at dawn!” 

“And now it’s late noon,” she says, matter of fact. 

She throws her head back in a laugh and lunges towards Marina, who squeals and flees her grip. She chases the giggles of the exuberant child, her tunic flapping in the warm wind as they run around the grass. “Got you!” She scoops Marina up and twirls her in a circle, and the child claps in delight, throwing her small hands in the air. 

“Marina!” A stern, out of breath voice sounds behind them. 

“Uh oh,” Marina whispers. 

The woman rests her hands on her knees as she tries to gather air. “You cannot run off like that! You were nearly trampled!” 

Persephone gently puts Marina down. “I’m sorry, mama,” she says quietly. 

The stern look on the mother’s face only lasts a moment more before she sighs. “It’s fine, love. Promise you won’t run away again?”

“I promise, mama!” 

The mother faces Persephone. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Persephone, Cora. And please, don’t apologize. Marina’s my favorite flower bud.” She ruffles Marina’s hair. 

“You say that to all the village children!” Marina protests. 

“Oh, I must be going now!” Persephone says flightily. 

Cora laughs knowingly. “Of course, Your– Persephone. Will we see you soon?” 

“Yes, my husband and I shall return for the upcoming fair.”

“Oh, wonderful, I was hoping so!” Cora claps her hands. “I have made a pomegranate tart just for you. You mentioned they were–”

“My favorite fruit, yes. I am so looking forward to it.”

“Bye, Persie!” Marina waves with a toothy smile. 

“Marina!” Cora scolds.

“A-hem.” Persephone raises an eyebrow. “You forgot something.”

The child cocks her head. Persephone draws a small circle in the air with her finger, and a thin crown of lilies and daisies perches elegantly on Marina’s hair. She gasps. “It’s so beautiful! Thank you, Queen Persephone!” The child eagerly hugs her legs. 

She laughs and pats her head. “You’re so very welcome, my dear.” 

After Marina and Cora go on their way, she leans down to remedy a trampled patch of thistle. 

“You are so good with the children.”

She whirls around and beams. Within three large strides, she leaps into his arms. He laughs into her shoulder and lifts her higher. “Hello, wife.”

“Hello, husband.” She wraps her arms around his neck and fervently presses her lips against his. 

She can’t help a giggle or two as he rains kisses down her jaw and to her neck. He nuzzles her ear. “I missed you.” 

“I saw you this morning, my love.”

“Yes. Quite a long time ago.” 

She laughs and splays her fingers out, gazing at the obsidian ring carved with flowers on her hand. “It’s so lovely. Thank you so much.”

“Anything and everything for you.”

She closes her eyes and tries her hardest to savor that moment in time, where she has never felt such joy, such unrivaled peace. “I must tell you something, my King.”

“Hm?” His lips brush the underside of her ear. 

She rests her forehead against his and weaves his fingers into hers before moving them to her stomach. She closes her eyes. “Go ahead, little one.”

A gentle flutter kick presses against her skin. Hades gasps, and his fingers tremble. “Again.”

Another bump touches his fingers. His eyes meet hers, and she is more than relieved to see the reverence, the hope, the awe there. 

“Truly?”

“Yes.” She rubbed their hands over her navel. “I’m with child.”

Hades blinks before huffing a laugh. His laughter grows lighter and he picks her up once again. “A child! Our child.”

“Yes.” She holds his face in her hands. “You will be a magnificent father.”

“And you shall be a mother that puts all others to shame.”

They share long and sweet kisses for more time than they should, before sinking down in the flower field once again, tossing their clothes into the bushes and coming together over, and over. 

\--

She sits upon her throne and leans into its golden back, feeling the small vines of marigold bloom under her fingers. Her husband’s hand rests on hers as they watch another man be dragged away in chains, amidst his hollering and cursing. 

“Gods,” Persephone says sadly. “How can one be so cruel? To murder a dozen women and their children?”

“Men who grow mad with power, and desperate for greed,” he responds solemnly. 

The throne room’s door opens once again, and a disbelieving gasp leaves Persephone’s mouth as three frail women are escorted in. 

“Ismene! Malaena, Thalia!” she cries, and leaps off her seat. 

“Persephone!” Hades calls, but she’s already running across the room.

The nymphs look wispy and dispirited, the flowers on their once gossamer gowns now deformed and ripped to shreds. When they hear Persephone’s voice, they all look up with wide eyes. “My lady!” 

Persephone embraces the willowy women, one by one. “What happened?” Her heart aches as she takes in the sickly protrusion of their collarbones, the way their gowns slip so easily from the bone of their shoulders.

Malaena and Thalia exchange a worried glance. Ismene looks down shamefully. “My lady…”

By the way the nymphs shift uncomfortably, Persephone understands the reason the once sweet nymphs could possibly be standing in her throne room. “My _mother?"_ she yells.

“Ever since you have left, she has restored life, but barely. Just enough to survive winters and famine,” Ismene murmurs dejectedly. “A few of the nymphs and I…” Her voice breaks. 

“Oh, Persephone, it’s just woeful,” Thalia says. “The larkspur have not reached full bloom for multiple cycles, and the milk thistle might as well be withered. We just wanted to breathe life into the poor fauna, once again. So we disobeyed her instructions and tended to them, anyway.”

“So she decided to have you _slain_?” Persephone shrieks. Limbs of nightshade wrap around her arms and droop down, hemlock and narcissus buds erupting as the vines spread across the palace floor.

“My love.” Hades’ hand rests on her shoulder. “You are frightening them.”

The haze of anger quickly dissipates as she sees the terror in the nymphs’ eyes. “Oh, my friends. I am so sorry. I simply can’t believe that she would be so cruel.”

“It has been worth it, as we have seen you,” Malaena says softly, and raises a hand to Persephone’s cheek.

A tear slips from her eyes and sinks into Malaena’s fingers. “How I have missed you! How are the nymphs?” 

“We are all missing you. You brought light to our orchard and meadow.” For the first time, their gazes flicker to Hades, and they all gasp before clumsily dropping to their knees. “Our apologies, Your Majesty.” Ismene bows her head. 

Hades smiles at her, and pats her shoulder. “No need. Rise.”

The nymphs look tentatively at Persephone, and she nods in approval. They rise on shaky feet. 

“Ismene, Malaena, Thalia, this is my husband.” She gestures to Hades with a dreamy smile. “He is my heart, my soul, my true love. My King, these are the nymphs I spent most of my days with. They are my most treasured confidantes. We roamed our fields together, bathed in the springs together.”

“Then it is my pleasure to meet you all,” Hades says. “Thank you for caring for my wife, and dedicating your time and effort to the beauty of our world.”

“Oh! That’s–that’s alright,” Thalia stutters, a blush blooming on her face. 

Persephone laughs with a sly smile. “He is quite handsome, isn’t he?”

Malaena’s eyes grow wide, and her face reddens harshly. “My lady!” 

Hades chuckles, and motions to the lanky, smoky man in the corner of the hall. “Charon, please personally escort them to Elysium, immediately. Take them to Cora.” 

Persephone claps in excitement. “Oh, you three will love it! I shall visit you every day!” 

The life that previously seemed to be drained out of the nymphs returns in slow flushes. “We look forward to it, my lady,” Ismene says. 

After another embrace, the three are swept away. Persephone turns to her husband. “Thank you, my love.”

Hades kisses both of her cheeks before pressing a final one to her lips. “Anyone who has brought you joy deserves to enjoy the pleasures of Elysium for the rest of eternity.”

They share another kiss, before returning to their thrones and continuing their sentencing.

\--

Hand in hand, Persephone and Hades make it no more than a few strides into Elysium’s village before she is barreled over by a flurry of small hands and exuberant giggles.

“Persie!”

“Queen Persephone!”

The happy voices spill over one another as they grab at her legs and jump in front of her. She crouches down and embraces the small crowd of children. “Hello, my darlings. How is the fair so far?”

“It’s great! Mama is letting us eat so many sweets!” Adiel, the son of the village’s baker, exclaims. 

“And we drank papa’s wine when he wasn’t looking!” Twins Catia and Charisia giggle.

Persephone gasps. “You two! Much too mischievous.”

“Come, now, my wife,” Hades said slyly. “You display your fair share of mischief, as well.” He presses a kiss on her cheek.

The young girls coo, and a symphony of disgusted noises leave the mouths of the boys. 

“Let’s away, your majesties!” The eldest boy, Vale, takes Persephone’s hand. “The whole village is waiting!”

“Cease your rush, children,” Hades orders. The children straighten dutifully. “We have someone for you to meet.”

“Melinoe, come.” Persephone looks over her shoulder. A five year old peeks her head out from behind her legs. “Don’t be shy, my love.”

She hesitantly steps forward, but continues to press herself to her side. The children gasp. 

“Who is that?”

“She’s so small!” 

“Did you kidnap her?”

“Adiel!” she scolds. She affectionately strokes her hair. “We thought you all should finally meet our child.” Persephone looks down at her, and her still-worried expression. “Go on, my sweet. It’s alright.”

“Hello,” the child says meekly, keeping a hand wrapped around Persephone’s calf. 

“You are so pretty,” Vale marvels. Hades glares at the young boy as Melinoe blushes and buries her face further into her skin. Persephone frowns at her husband, and he sighs.

“Come, children,” he says and ushers them forward. “Let us go to the fair.” 

They cheer excitedly and run off. Melinoe looks up at Hades and raises her arms. Persephone’s heart sings as she watches him scoop her up and hold her tight to his chest. She curls her head into his neck. 

He touches her cheek. “What is the matter, my darling girl?” 

“I don’t want to,” she says into his skin. 

“Don’t want to what?” he asks.

“Go.”

“To the fair?” Persephone asks softly. Melinoe nods.

“They will adore you,” she said. “Please, for your mother.”

The young child looks at her father. He nods supportively and kisses her forehead. “You are the most beloved girl on this earth, in the heavens.”  
  
They hear the pattering of feet again, and look down to see Vale running back up to them. He skids to a stop, and Hades narrows his eyes. “Melinoe?” Vale shifts awkwardly. “Would you like to come with us?” 

Panicked, she looks to her father. Persephone gives him a pointed look, and he eventually sighs. “Go, my child.” He slowly lowers her to the ground. Vale reaches out a hand. 

She takes small steps forward, before gently placing her hand in his. 

Hades stares at Vale, who bows deeply. “I shall make sure she’s safe, Your Majesty.”

Persephone takes her husband’s hand. “Let us follow. 

He softens instantly, and kisses her temple. Melinoe wrinkles her nose. “Let’s away,” she tells Vale.

Persephone laughs as the two children scamper off. They follow them at a leisurely pace, greeting each merchant and villageperson as they stroll past the houses. 

“Do you think it was wise to wait until she was at this age to visit Elysium?” she asks.

He pauses, thinking. “Indeed. She was quite timid when she entered our world.”

She remembers how Melinoe hardly interacted with anyone but her and Hades during her first year of life. Rather, she would whimper and hide her face in her husband’s chest.

“Besides,” Hades says. “Hecate was more than glad to hold her until dawn.”

She laughs and reminisces fondly on Melinoe’s love for Hecate, and her only, in her second and third year of life. She would refuse to be fed or bathed unless it was with the witch. Later, she would only sleep if Cerberus lay with her. He happily obliged. She took a liking to the nymphs as well, who fawned over her just as they did with Persephone. They wove dresses made of flora for her and crafted jewelry with blades of grass. 

Simply said, her life felt as though it had truly begun after giving birth to her daughter. She had never experienced such vivid joy and rapture in every waking moment. Visits from Artemis and Aphrodite were more enjoyable, the pain of sentencing scoundrels to Tartarus ached less, and making love was nothing short of pure ecstasy. She felt entirely, completely, everlastingly alive.

“My Queen?” 

She turns her head. “Yes?”

“Do you recall the day that the earth fractured?”

“You mean, when _you_ fractured the earth?” 

He grins. “Yes.”

“Yes, of course I remember.”

“I thank the Fates for that day.”

“As do I.”

When they finally reach the plaza where the fair takes place, he stops her and takes her hands in his own. “Thank you, my love.”

She tilts her head. “For what?” 

“Bringing such light to my life.”

“Thank you, my King.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For showing me that the dark is just as important.”


End file.
